Power, Purpose, and Possibility
To say I haven’t felt like myself for the last couple of years would be a massive understatement. I’ve felt stuck, hidden, anxious, ill, and like I’m not doing what I want to be doing. I’ve soul-searched, meditated, daydreamed, and worked with therapists. But what it took for a little insight was not a massive breakthrough in session; it was during savasana on a Sunday night, as my yoga instructor asked over Zoom what my intention for the week ahead was going to be.
How did I want to feel?
The words came clearly: Powerful, purposeful, and full of possibility.
Immediately, I flashed back to the last time I felt those things, and embodied those words with reckless abandon. All you have to do is read the last blog from well over a year ago to realize how much of an impact my undergraduate university experience had on me. I was fortunate to be able to go to such a prestigious school and to study alongside the most intelligent, brave, supportive people, who all also became engineers. And in the process, became engrained with who I became, and who I wanted to be moving forward.
Power
Back in the days that I roamed the streets of Kingston, I felt like I controlled my destiny. I was powerful, could work hard enough, study long enough, and be brave enough to make anything happen. I had confidence in spades, baby. And bless my parents’ hearts, they told me I could, in fact, do anything I set my sights on. But, I was the engine that would have to power the dream machine to reach my goals. And I did. I got into the best grad schools for motorsport and aerodynamics and I got two Master’s degrees.
I carried that sense of inner power and confidence with me throughout my career as an engineer. Anyone who worked with me would likely not use words like “quiet, follows the rules, doesn’t speak her mind, and goes with the flow” to describe me. In fact, as my old classmates reminded me, my late friend John would describe me as gutsy. Thanks for that, John. I miss your no-nonsense conversations, where you would both support me and kick my ass back into fighting the good fight at work.
Lately, I’ve lost that sense of internal power or confidence. I don’t feel like I could move mountains to get what I want or that I alone could fight the good fight anymore. Sure, a lot of that is complicated by the fact that I’ve been severely sick for months now, both with my autoimmune disease and now with all the illnesses Charlie brings home from school that my immune system can’t fight off. Even in terms of my work, I’ve lost that sense that I could just kick some ass, use my brain, and make things happen.
I know that 21-year-old version of Kattie is still there though, deep inside my heart.
Purpose
While I ended up leaving engineering because I felt a lack of purpose with what I was doing, and I also realized I would never be able to change the culture as one of the only women in the field, at the beginning I felt like I had purpose. I felt like I could change the world. I could change the face of the company. Hire more women. Support female engineers. Foster diversity of all kinds. I would fight for what was right. That fight got beaten out of me by all the “this is how we have always done it” and “you don’t get it.”
Obviously, my purpose is different now. And I’ve realized through many painful events that we are not guaranteed any length of life. So if there’s something important you want to do before your time is up, you better get on it. I’ve realized that I want to give back, to donate to scholarships and charities, and I want to capture my own stories and lessons in writing so that my son can always look back and read what I hope I’ve taught him. Maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones and live a full and long life. Maybe my purpose to change an entire company culture or industry won’t succeed, but maybe I can raise one tiny human as a feminist, as a kind person who will spread warmth and joy and respect to every other person he encounters.
The girl who fought for her place on the kart track and her spot at the boardroom table is still inside my heart. She was always scrappy, and cunning. Just a bit burnt out now. But I’m going to redirect her to writing again. She needs the outlet, somewhere to rekindle her purpose.
Possibility
Ah, to be 22 again. Graduating from university, with nothing but possibilities in your mind. Moving to England, pursuing further education, working in motorsport, enjoying the challenge, and letting my heart lead the way. I got lucky there too, because a few of my colleagues from Queen’s, in that picture from the last post, were right beside me at Oxford Brookes University and then the University of Southampton, all each with dreams and goals just as lofty.
I felt like I could do anything. Live anywhere. Work anywhere. Make tons of money. Love my job every minute. Of course, that’s not exactly the way in panned out, because I didn’t enjoy living overseas, but on the moment the plane took off from Toronto on its way to Heathrow, it felt like the beginning of a choose-your-own-adventure. We were the captain’s of our destiny. Whatever we chose as a destination, we were free to go. The picture above is me running my first wind tunnel test on off-design race car aerodynamics. It was hard work, early mornings travelling to the tunnel and back to my dorm at night to verify data. But I was confident, proud, and sure that I had a future work life full of this kind of possibility.
Even if it didn’t end up like we’d planned, we had our minds and hearts open to the best case scenario, and somehow I lost that along the way. My default now being the worst case, the hard path, the one filled with sorrow or loss or pain. And that has been true for the last couple of years, but it isn’t permanent. Nothing lasts forever. I need to wipe my eyes, clean the lenses of my glasses, and refocus on the ridiculously positive possibilities that are out there.
The girl who chased her dreams, moved to a different country, ran her own wind tunnel, and believed anything was possible is still inside my heart. She’s just scared to let loose again. But it’s time. Time to step back into the world of looking for possibilities.
